


Caged Bird

by Micha_Writes



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26401339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Micha_Writes/pseuds/Micha_Writes
Summary: This fic takes place between Gods of the Arena and Blood and Sand. Two years after Auctus dies and the Primus,  Barca is still mourning Auctus. He hides his loneliness from most of his brothers except from the watchful eye of Oenomaus and his closest friend Crixus. Batiatus purchases a group of Guals and a few boys to help in the ludus. The kind hearted boy catches the gladiators eye and sparks fly igniting the embers of their love.  Pietros finds his place in the ludus and learns what it means to be a gladiator. On the night of the test, Pietros shows honor and integrity as he intervenes as a disgruntled recruit tries to exact revenge on Barca. The two men promise their hearts to one another, and vow to seek their freedom together, forever intertwining their fates.
Relationships: Barca/Pietros
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

  
  


Two years past the Primus in the new stadium in Capua, Batiatus still strives to be the top lanista. Solonius has inherited a prosperous ludus whose men outnumber those of the House of Batiatus and continues to hold the favor of the elite. 

The day breaks as Barca sits alone on the bench in his cell. With Auctus to the afterlife and Gannicus taken his leave, the ludus has not been the same. The loneliness that weighs on him has become an unwelcome companion. During the day, his thoughts focus on his training, allowing the gladiator to veil his emotions in the ferocity of his spear.

At night when he returns to the empty cell, Barca feels as though he is trapped with his feelings. He dare not show a glimmer of sadness that could be construed as weakness. The other men are his brothers, but if he is fated to compete against one of them, he would not give even a glimmer of weakness for them to exploit to their advantage. 

Petting Auctus’ favorite bird, Barca waits anxiously for Oenomaus to order the cells opened. Hearing footsteps approach, the gladiator places the bird in its cage and stands at the door. The morning light streams into the paddock as Oenomaus stands before the cell door. The dark-skinned man greets his friend with a smile. 

  
  


“Barca, it is not like you to await release upon first light. Did sleep not find you this night?”

  
  


Barca grins as he leans on the bars of the cell as the guards make their way down the corridor to unlock the cells. Stepping out of his cage, Barca clasps Oenomaus’ forearm in greeting. Barca yawns as he stretches his long arms above his head. Oenomaus smiles as the men head to take morning meal.

  
  


“I will take your yawn as answer. Barca, does troubled mind keep sleep at bay?”

  
  


“It would appear so. I cannot seem to quiet my thoughts and allow sleep to come.--No matter, I will focus on today’s training and by night fall, I will be too tired to entertain thought.”

  
  


“Brother I share in the absence of sleep. With the events of the past still weighing heavily on mind the emptiness left within chest remains as constant reminder of what was lost. I fear this house is forever changed.”

  
  


“Take morning meal and set mind to training.”

  
  


They clasp arms as Doctore takes the sand with slight smile. Barca sheilds his eyes as he is the men exit the paddock. The gladiator heads to his table when he spots Batiatus headed towards the training yard. Trudging through the paddock followed by his slave and bodyguard, Batiatus stops to greet Oenomaus. 

  
  


“Oenamaus, I leave for the market. I have a line on some fighting men in from Neapolis. I must make haste before fucking Solonius purchases them out from under me! Pray the gods show us favor this day my friend!”

  
  


“Yes Dominus. I pray for your success.”

  
  


“Make haste! Ready the wagon!” Batiatus barks at the guards as he hurries out of the villa. Barca sits alone at his usual table ignoring the other men. As he is about to get up to get his bowl, someone addresses him. Looking up he sees Ashur standing at the table’s edge with his scheming eyes. 

  
  


“May I join you, Barca?” Turning, Barca clenches his jaw as his fierce eyes follow the injured Syrian as he limps to the seat across from him. 

  
  


“I pray this day finds you well.” Barca stares at Ashur cracking his knuckles.

  
  


“The reason I seek your ear is that it has come to my attention as the end of the month approaches, you have amassed quite a sum from your winnings. Most of our brothers seek to spend their coin on wine and cunt. Seeing as your preferences differ, I had thought to procure you something more suitable for a small fee. I only thought that since the unfortunate death of your former lover to the Gual Crixus, your cock may seek another to provide comfort. I seek to learn your preferences so I can be of service.”

  
  


Barca’s jaw flexes as his brow furrows. Crixus walks up behind Ashur. 

  
  


“Fall from sight you Syrian shit!” the gual spits.

  
  


Standing across from Barca, Crixus places two bowls of porridge on the table.

  
  


“Apologies brother. I brought you meal as well. I would have words before training begins.”

  
  


“Sit and break words.” Barca begins eating as the Gual sits. “Gratitude for removing the Syrian cunt.”

  
  


“His shit-eating grin turns stomach.-- I sought you out to break words about our future at the ludus.”

Barca’s interest piqued. “You finally come seeking my cock as replacement for Auctus!”

  
  


Crixus eyes go wide as he almost chokes on a spoonful of porridge. Barca’s face lights up as his hearty laughter fills the dining hall. 

  
  


“I jest brother! Unless you would have my cock!” He laughs louder as he reaches over the table to slap Crixus on the shoulder. 

  
  


The Gual smiles as he clears his throat. “Fuck you, you shit! I speak of lack of real gladiators. You and I stand the only viable men for the arena. Dominus set to Capua this morning in search of replenishing his stock. After the primus, only you and I stand men of worth. I want to gain position through victory in the arena and would not see you fall.”

  
  


“Speak your plan and see it considered.”

  
  


“Brother, you hold favor with Doctore and I would have you place thought in his ear. You and I should push each other in training and in turn push the other men. We will not be chosen for peak matches if we are the only men who stand victorious. The other men must be pushed if this house is not to fall to shit!”

  
  


Barca crosses his arms as he considers Crixus’ words. Nodding in agreement, he offers his hand as gesture. After their meal, the Phoenecian addresses Doctore. Oenomaus nods in agreement to Barca as Crixus waits against the column. Cracking his whip, the dark-skinned instructor signals the gladiators to ready themselves for the day’s training. 

Barca and Crixus put their plan into motion under the watchful eye of Doctore. The men are pushed to near exhaustion for the remaining hours of the day. At dusk Quintus returns to the ludus. Oenomaus sends the exhausted gladiators to eat their evening meal as he waits to speak to Dominus. 

The new acquisitions marched inside the gate and lined up upon the sands. Four thin women, six mean looking new recruits, and three boys await inspection by a houseful of watchful eyes. Lucretia stands on the balcony to welcome her husband home. Quintus presents the four women for her use in the villa. Smiling, she accepts her husband’s gesture to keep her in comfort. Sending Naevia to fetch the new girls, she looks over the new gladiators. 

Tan skin, rippling muscles, and angry eyes, stand as common traits among the men. Her attention slides to the form of the Gual she earlier called to her bed.

Crixus sizes up the new recruits as Oenomaus looks the group over. Crixus perks up at the mention of the men’s homeland, Gualia.

“Looks like the new stock are kin to you brother!”

Barca claps his hand on Crixus’ shoulder. Oenomaus cracks his whip ushering the new recruits across the training yard to begin their grueling training. Crixus grins as Doctore cracks his whip having the men haul heavy beams on their shoulders while they trudge in a circle. The Gual turns to Barca to taunt the recruits and finds his brother eyeing the three remaining boys. 

The scrawny boys fidget and jump at every crack of Oenomaus’ whip. Two of the boys are pale and thin with shaved heads, which makes them appear smaller. The third has thick curly hair and brown skin that gleams in the sun as he nervously switches from foot to foot. He glances around the yard taking in his new surroundings when his eyes meet Barca’s.

The gladiator stares at the boy, his eyes focused like an animal on the hunt. The boy’s deep brown eyes quickly focus on his feet again. Barca’s eyes travel down the boy’s slim form as Oenomaus approaches the last of the slaves. Turning to face the instructor, Barca is granted opportunity to admire the dark skinned boy from behind. Despite his half-starved frame, the boy has broad shoulders and a tiny waist. The thin piece of tattered cloth hangs low on his hips, clinging just tight enough to show the roundness of his ass. 

  
  


“You favor the boy?” The surprised Gual interrupts Barca’s eyeing of the boy with his raspy voice.

“I would not have guessed that boy would catch your eye. I though you would seek a man more your equal.”

“The boy stands a half starved little thing. If Oenomaus doesn’t put him to cart and he gets a few meals in him, he may yet stir my cock.”

Barca laughs as he turns and heads to the baths. Relishing a chance to remove the extra dirt and sweat from his skin, Barca rings out a rag letting the water cascade over his skin. He and Crixus occupy the two benches closest to the water source, fending off any of the other gladiators with their fierce scowls. 

Hearing Oenomaus approaching, the gladiators turn. He enters the baths leading the boys in his tour of the ludus. 

“Gladiators attend! Dominus has provided these three boys to aid you in training. They will be trained as  _ baiulus _ and answer to me. This is Hadrian, Aengus, and Pietros. Come boys, I will show you where you sleep.”

Gnaeus steps forward grabbing the face of one of the skinny boys. “Doctore, you can show this one to my cell. I have something he can attend to. He can do some training on my cock!”

The frightened boy tries to pull away. Barca walks behind Gnaeus and slaps him with his wet towel. The man growls as the Phonecian scowls at him as he walks towards the door.

“The boy would have to find your tiny cock first you ugly fuck!”

The bath house roars with laughter as the men react to Barca’s insult.

Barca smiles as he sees the boy stealing glances at him. Removing the cloth covering his cock, he stands proudly flinging the cloth over his shoulder. The boy’s eyes widen before falling to the floor again, as he follows Oenomaus to their cell. Crixus chuckles to himself. 

“You frighten the boy with your angry cock! His dreams will be haunted by the sight.”

“He’d be better off for it! My cock would split him in two!”

“Still, he may prove useful if even for a short time.”

  
  


Crixus pats his shoulder as he ties his loin cloth and retires to his cell. Heading to his cell he smiles to himself recalling the boy’s name, Pietros. Stepping into his space, he finds the boys settled in the adjacent cell. Sitting on the wooden bench, Barca focuses on the birds. Reaching into the handmade cage he pulls out his favorite black-tailed pigeon. Staring into the emptiness of the cell, he fails to notice Neolis standing in the doorway. 

The young man smiles warmly watching Barca gently pet his bird. He is average height and build but appears much smaller beside Barca. His dark hair is shorn short and his lean frame doesn’t compare to that of the Phoenician’s former lover. Something about Neolis’ cocky smile reminds him of Auctus. It is the only reason he entertains the young man. 

  
  


“If you desire something warm to touch, nothing would please me more than to have your hands upon me.”

  
  


Barca smiles returning the bird to the cage. Neolis slides onto the bench and cozies up next to the gladiator. 

  
  


“If you require comfort, I would see you well satisfied.”

  
  


“You boast of your skill before proof is given.”

  
  


“Then I would prove boast.”

  
  
The coy boy slides to his knees, reaching for Barca’s cock. The gladiator watches as the eager  _ baiulus  _ services him. Relishing the attention, Barca closes his eyes and throws his head back. A loud clang against the bars, breaks his temporary escape from the outside musings. When he opens his eyes he spots Pietros in the  _ baiulus  _ cell attempting to hide in the shadow. Barca smiles to himself as Neolis brings him to his peak. Satisfied in his efforts, Neolis attempts to kiss Barca, but the gladiator feins tiredness. He dismisses the boy with a smile, escorting him out of his cell. The dark-skinned boy stares at the birds, watching them sitting in the cages as he curls up on the floor trying to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

  
  


Awakening to the clank of the guards’ keys in the locks. Barca yawns, opening the door to his cell as he finishes tying his subligeria. Walking past the empty cell he grins making his way to the dining hall. He finds Crixus at their usual table already eating. Looking around he spys the tan-skinned boy in the corner of the yard. He is crouched down holding onto something. Barca arches his neck and sees a small pigeon with what looks like a broken wing. It keeps flapping as the boy attempts to catch it. The gladiator grins as the boy finally traps the bird under his sandal, gently tucking the bird under his arm. 

Startled by Oenomaus cracking his whip, the new recruits stop walking and drop their beams from their weary shoulders. After a long night of grueling labor, the men fall to the ground. Barca grins remembering the training he had to endure. It is all part of becoming part of the brotherhood. He smiles at Crixus as he walks to the dwindling pot of porridge.

The Gual shakes his head, hiding a knowing grin as he eats his morning meal. After stirring the pot the recruits file in to eat. Barca greets them with a devious smile as he heaps the remnants of the gruel into their bowls. The exhausted group sits at one empty table. The other gladiators peer over their bowls to watch for the first reaction. 

The first recruit, a tan man with dark hair and thick brows scoops a large spoon of porridge into his mouth. His face turns sour as he spits the food onto the ground. “It tastes like piss!” he shouts looking around as the dining hall erupts in laughter. 

  
  


“That is because I pissed in it, you shit!” Barca laughs.

  
  


The new recruits scowl as the others laugh at their hunger. The three new  _ baiulus _ walk into the hall after completing their early morning chores. Seeing the pots empty the boys look at each other unsure what to do. Barca spoons some porridge into his mouth as the boys stand with only cups of water. Gnaeus stands with a piece of bread leering at the boys.

  
  


“Come little ones! I will give my bread to the one that will suck my cock! How about you boy?” He grins at Pietros but the boy looks away. Barca stands and growls at the man.

  
  


“It would be a difficult task to have them search for your puny cock!” Barca nods gesturing to the boys to sit at his table. His eyes meet Pietros’ as he catches the boy eyeing the loaf of bread sitting between him and Crixus. 

  
  


“You, boy!” He calls the nervous boy over. “Here, dispose of this. I have had my fill.”

  
  


Pietros cautiously walks over and takes the half eaten loaf of bread from his hand. The boy smiles the biggest smile as he takes the coveted treat from the gladiator. 

  
  


“Gratitude.”

Crixus smiles spooning the last of his meal into his mouth not daring to challenge the giant. Barca eats his porridge, glancing up to catch glimpses of Pietros. The boy’s eyes meet his and Pietros smiles warmly at the gladiator as he feeds a few crumbs to the injured bird in his lap. Crixus grins at his smitten friend.

  
  


“I told you brother, the little bird would come to me. All I needed was some breadcrumbs. Now, to leave door to the cage open, and wait for him to fly in.” Barca grins staring at the boy. 

  
  


“Then what would you do when your little bird is within grasp?”

  
  


“I will fatten him up and devour him slowly!”

  
  


Barca laughs. Stashing the injured animal, Pietros steals away into the paddock. Oenomaus cracks his whip signalling the beginning of training. The gladiators apply their padding as Oenomaus readies the recruits for the day. 

  
  


“Gladiators, positions! Recruits, attend!”

  
  


The seasoned gladiators line up in front of Oenomaus with the recruits standing along the back side of the practice yard. Turning slowly to face the recruits, he paces the ground before them.

  
  


“What is beneath your feet?” He cracks his whip and asks again.

  
  


“What is beneath your feet!” The men step back to avoid the sting of his whip. 

  
  


“Barca, what is beneath your feet?”

  
  


“Sacred ground Doctore, watered with tears of blood!”

  
  


“Your tears! Your blood! Your pathetic lives forged into something of worth...Listen! Learn! Perhaps then, you will live as gladiators. Now you will see what you could become if you heed my orders. 

Barca! Crixus! Positions! Pietros, Aengus, Hadrian! Pair with the other  _ baiulus _ and learn the weapon of each gladiator!” 

  
  


Neolis walks over to Pietros gesturing for the boy to follow him. Approaching Barca, the older  _ baiulus  _ begins instructing the boy in how to attend to the muscular man. Neolis avoids the gaze of the fierce gladiator as he notices Barca’s eyes glancing at the boy. 

  
  


“What are you called?”

  
  


“Pietros.” The boy answers unsure of what he should assist with.

  
  


“Nice to meet you Pietros. I am Neolis and this is Barca. He is _hoplomachus_ meaning he fights with spear and _parma_ sheild. His _ocrea,_ these thick pads, must be fastened securely. It protects his spear wielding arm from attack.”

  
  


He looks up from his task to find the boy staring at Barca. The gladiator is looking at Crixus, feining disinterest in their conversation.

  
  


“Pietros, are you paying attention?”

  
  


“Yes, of course.”

  
  


“Good. I will secure his  _ greaves _ . Fasten  _ parma  _ to arm quickly or feel Doctore’s whip.”

  
  


Pietros holds up the parma as Barca extends his arm. Feeling the man’s dark eyes staring at him, Pietros’ hands work hastily but quivering with uncertainty.

  
  


“Be sure to lash it tight, boy.” The gladiator says knowing his stare intimidates the boy.

  
  


Pietros nods, finishing his task and quickly stepping back. His eyes fixed on the ground as Neolis hands him the spear to present to the gladiator. Barca grins as he takes the weapon taking his place across from Crixus. Neolis stands next to Pietros and continues his instruction. 

  
  


“You see Crixus over there. He fights  _ murmillo _ , meaning large sheild and  _ gladius _ . Pay attention and learn quickly.”

  
  


Pietros nods returning his attention to the tall gladiator. Oenomaus cracks his whip. “Begin!”

  
  


Barca jumps, thrusting his weapon over Crixus’ sheild. The Gual lifts his sheild causing the spear to glance off and pushes closer to Barca thrusting his sword. Charging for the stocky gladiator, Barca thrusts at his feet forcing the man back. Swiping under his knee, Crixus falls onto his back. Barca lunges at the man on the ground but Crixus rolls out of the reach of the sharp spearhead. 

Using his sheild to block the attack, the gladiator gets to his feet. Barca swings around the Gual, putting Crixus between him and the side wall. The spear wielder defends with his  _ parma _ . The strap loosens allowing the sword to slip under the arm pad. Crixus twists his body around pulling Barca by the arm. Slamming his sheild down as he pulls Barca off of his secure footing. 

At the last second, Barca pulls his hand away leaving the  _ parma _ to bear the brunt of the attack. The Gual’s sword cuts his exposed arm. Rolling away, Barca gets to his feet, swinging his weapon to force Crixus to abandon his direct attack. 

The new recruits scramble to get out of the way of the fearsome gladiators. Oenomaus cracks his whip.

  
  


“Enough! Take note, these men are the best gladiators of this house. One of them will be the Champion of Capua! If you wish to become a gladiator and honor this house with your victories, you will need to best one of these men during the test, to join the brotherhood. Positions!”

  
  


Barca and Crixus clap forearms in respect of each other’s skill. Oenomaus walks over to Neolis and Pietros.

  
  


“Barca’s  _ parma _ was not fastened properly. It could have resulted in grave injury if not for the man’s quick thinking. If any equipment failure further results in injury, you will both be punished. Do you understand?’

  
  


“Yes Doctore.” They both utter hanging their heads.

  
  


“Retrieve the defective parma and discard it.”

  
  


“Yes Doctore.”

  
  


The stern instructor turns to his men. “Gladiators pair up!”

  
  


Pietros turns to the older boy apologetically. “Apologies Neolis, I did not intend to get you in trouble with Doctore.”

  
  


The boy bows before going onto the sand to retrieve the broken sheild. Pietros looks at Barca as he wraps a scrap of cloth from his  _ ocrea  _ around the dripping cut from his forearm. The gladiator’s eyes meet his briefly before Pietros drops his gaze. 

  
  


That evening, the gladiator returns to his cell after the baths. Barca stops in the doorway upon seeing Pietros crouched in front of the bird cages. Grabbing the boy, Barca grasps his throat pushing Pietros against the stone wall. 

  
  


“What are you doing in my cell boy? Find tongue or feel my hand tighten around your throat!”

  
  


Pietros struggles until he sees Barca staring back at him. The gladiator’s jaw flexes and his nostrils flare as he awaits the boy’s answer. Pietros’ words stumble from his lips.

  
  


“Apologies, Barca. I came to offer apologies for not being more vigilant in my training. My mistake caused you harm and I only wished to make gesture of amends.”

  
  


Barca looks to the floor beside the birdcages without loosening his grip of the boy. He observes a corner of bread, a small container of suave, and a fresh bandage. Barca loosens his grip and releases the startled boy. 

  
  


“Apologies.” Barca states evenly, still skeptical of the boys’ intentions. 

  
  


“I did not intend to startle you with me being here. I thought I would return your kindness and apologize. I brought the bread for the birds since you gave yours to stave off hunger from arriving late to morning meal. I was also wondering if you could take a look at this one I found earlier. I think its wing is broken.”

  
  


The gladiator takes the small bird into his large hand. Examining the injured animal he pets it gently. Pietros smiles at the man’s gentle touch. “I requested medicine and fresh bandage so your wound does not become infected. I would dress wound properly, if you would allow me.”

  
  


Barca sits on the bench watching the boy as he unwraps the scrap of cloth from his forearm. Carefully Pietros cleans the cut and dries it before applying the suave. The stoic man watches the boy intently tending his minor injury. He admires the softness of the boy’s features, especially his full lips. Tying the fresh bandage, Pietros smiles his bright grin, proud of his work. Barca sits back on the bench smirking at the boy.

  
  


“Do you not fear me, boy?”

  
  


Pietros smiles again looking at the floor then back up catching the intense gaze of the gladiator. His cheeks flush as the man stares at him. 

  
  


“At first I felt fear, but when I saw you with your pets, I became more curious.”

  
  


Pietros hands the gladiator his small bird watching the man fashion a splint for the animal. Barca leans closer to the boy’s face. “And what concern is that of yours?”

  
  


“None. What I find curious is the thought of your hands that fight with such deadly intent, handling something so gently.”

  
  


Pietros cradles his small pet, scooping one of the birds puttering about to hands to Barca. The gladiator gestures to the boy to sit on the bench. Turning to see who approaches he sees Crixus pause in front of his cell. 

“I see you lured your little bird to your cage.” The Gual smiles. 

  
  


“Breadcrumbs brother.” Barca smiles at his bird, as Crixus leaves the two men to their semi private conversation. 

  
  


“How did you come by your pets?” Pietros asks innocently, unaware of the emotions he stirs in the gladiator. Barca flexes his jaw as his eyes focus on the bird in his hand. 

  
  


“They belonged to Auctus. He stood as lover until he fell in the arena against Crixus.”

  
  


Pietros turns to Barca. “I believed Crixus to be friend.”

  
  


“The man now stands as brother. Such is the fate of any man that stands as a gladiator. It is only a matter of time before we all fall upon the sands of the arena. One day, we will be reunited in the afterlife. The thought brings some comfort. Until that day, I will add victories to my name.”

  
  


“You speak of former lover. I believed you and the man Neolis to be lovers.”

  
  


“We have an arrangement. I harbor no affections for the man, he services my cock when mood strikes. He but fulfills a need.”

  
  


“Is there none now that you would claim as such?”

  
  


“There stand none worthy of my cock. What do you know of pleasing a man?”

“I do not pretend to know what passes between two men. Only of boys whose curiosity staves off long nights.”

  
  


Barca smiles at the unexpected boldness of the boy. Focusing on the bird, Pietros steals a glance at the gladiator. Using the moment to take in the soft lines around his eyes, the angle of his jaw, and the curve of his lips, the boy realizes how handsome Barca really is. A few of his signature braids fall over his shoulder, tempting Pietros to brush them away. Stopping himself from sneaking a touch of the Phoenician’s bronze skin, the boy changes the subject.

  
  


“Is it true they call you the ‘Beast of Carthage’?”

  
  


“It is so.”

  
  


Pietros smiles placing the bird on the bench. Getting up he stops in the doorway. “I will take my leave now so you may find sleep. I will see you in the morning, ‘Beast of Carthage’.”

  
  


Barca moves quickly to grab the boy’s arm. The bird in his hand flutters to the ground as Barca stands before Pietros. His free hand caresses the boy’s jaw line drawing him close for a soft kiss. Looking into each other’s eyes, the men smile. Barca releases his grip of the boy watching as he returns to the  _ baiulus _ paddock.

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

  
  
  


Making his way to the dining hall, the gladiator sheilds his eyes from the bright morning sun. Turning the corner of the corridor, he finds Pietros crouched over collecting water to fill the barrels in the training yard. Barca brushes his fingers across the boy’s shoulders causing the  _ baiulus _ to jump. 

Seeing the tall gladiator, Pietros smiles as he stands to greet him. Barca touches his arm as they engage in conversation. Pietros inquires about Barca’s hair when someone bumps the gladiator, causing him to knock down Pietros. Barca apologizes as he helps the boy to his feet. Looking around furiously he spots the stocky, red-haired recruit walking with Gnaeus. Casting his foul gaze upon the fiery Gual as a warning, he feels the gentle tug Pietros’ hands settling him.

  
  


“Put the man from thought.” The boy touches his bicep. 

  
  


“Apologies Pietros. Some still need to learn their place!”

  
  


Retrieving their food, Barca leads Pietros to his usual table. Deliberately walking past Krakos, Barca elbows him in the back of the head, making him fall into his bowl. The other men break out in laughter as he looks to see who hit him. Barca laughs. “Apologies.” he smirks sarcastically. 

  
  


The man wipes the porridge from his face as he stands slamming his fits on the table. Gnaeus holds him back as Oenomaus enters the paddock. He cracks his whip. “Krakus, control yourself or half rations for the remainder of the week!”

  
  


The stocky recruit sits down glaring at Barca. Crixus laughs as he finishes his food. “I do not know what is more amusing, that fat fuck with his face full of porridge or the two of you making eyes at each other.” His gaze falls to Pietros as his gravely laugh echoes Barca’s. 

  
  


“Boy from where do you hail?”

  
  


“I am Egyptian.”

  
  


“I know nothing of your people. Are they all as you?”

  
  


“I would not know. I have been long since removed from my homeland. My former Dominus met his end and his slaves all sold to pay his debts.”

  
  


Oenomaus stands at the end of the table, his gaze upon the boy.

  
  


“Pietros, the supplies I petitioned Dominous for have arrived. Follow Naevia into the villa and retrieve them for me.”

  
  


“Yes Doctore!”

  
  


PIetros gets up and nods to Oenomaus. He gestures to a girl waiting in the corner. She stands just under his height with the same honey skin as Barca, long dark hair, and big dark eyes. She smiles sweetly as her soft voice fills his ears. 

  
  


“Follow me. You are new to this house are you not?”

  
  


“I am. My name is Pietros.”

  
  


“Nice to meet you Pietros, I am Naevia, Domina’s body slave.”

  
  


She leads him up the stairs and into the villa. The house slaves scurry back and forth setting the villa for a party.

  
  


“Is something happening here?”

  
  


“Yes. Dominus hosts a party. Many Romans will come this evening for a night of celebration. Doctore has only the oldest  _ baiulus  _ to attend. If you are smart you will stay below in the paddock. These parties tend to get out of hand.”

  
  


Pietros nods, heeding her warning. Walking him to the entrance, she points out a small trunk. The weight of the box strains the boy as he carries it back towards the stairs. Naevia looks to accompany him, but is summoned by the lady of the house.

  
  


“Naevia!”

  
  


“Coming Domina. Can you manage to find your way back?” She whispers. 

  
  


“Naevia!”

  
  


“Be quick!”

  
  


“Gratitude.” Pietros smiles as he heads down to the cellar. The guards open the iron gate so Pietros can return to the ludus with the trunk. Bringing it to Oenomaus, Doctore cracks his whip commanding the attention of the men. 

  
  


“Gladiators attend! This night, Dominus holds gathering in the villa. Training for the day is done. Tonight the new recruits will be presented. The rest of you shall remain in the paddock. Barca and Crixus, ready yourselves for presentation.”

  
  


“Yes, Doctore!”

  
  


“Dismissed.” The men move to purpose. The men head to the baths.

  
  


“Pietros, Neolis, leave the chores to the others, I would have you two attend to Crixus and Barca.”

  
  


“Yes, Doctore.”

  
  


The boys head to the baths where they find the men washing away the dirt and sweat of the day’s training. Pietros changes out of his subligeria tying one of the thin bathing cloths around his waist. He walks over to Neolis who is attending to Crixus. Picking up a blade, Pietros stares at Barca who is just finishing unbraiding his hair. 

The cocky gladiator turns, sensing the boy’s eyes on him. The bashful desire in the boy’s eyes intrigues the man. Neolis attends to Crixus, neither man paying attention to the flirtation between the two men beside him. Barca pulls the boy close smiling as Pietros attempts to focus on his task. Taking care not to cut Barca’s skin, the boy admires the man’s muscular form. His broad shoulders and strong back flex under the boy’s touch. Barca caresses the boy’s thigh causing him to still. 

Backing away as his cock stirs, Pietros places the tool on the bench. Barca grabs his wrist and pulls him around to stand before him. Watching the gladiator’s hungry eyes roam over his body the boy’s cheeks flush. Barca’s long hair drips dry as the dark locks flow down his pecks. Pietros reaches for his hair, surprised at the softness. 

  
  


“I could fix your hair for you if you’d like.”

  
  


Barca nods watching as Pietros climbs the ledge behind him. Gently, the boy guides the man so his back rests against the boy’s chest. Taking a deep breath, Pietros attempts to focus on his task. Barca sits in silence relaxing into the warmth of the boy. Pietros works quickly braiding the gladiator’s long hair. The baths empty as the men retire to their cells. 

As the last man leaves, Barca feels the boy finish with his hair. He stands watching Pietros admire his work. Barca leans down and kisses Pietros. The gladiator’s large hands grips the boy’s neck stroking his jaw with his thumb. Feeling Pietros returns his affection, Barca presses further, sliding his tongue inside the boy’s mouth. His other hand returns to the boy’s taught thigh, gesturing for him to stand. 

Wrapping his arms around the tall Phoenician’s neck, Barca lifts him off the step allowing the boy’s body to slide down his own until his feet hit the floor. Pulling away, the gladiator grins at the breathless boy. His small chest heaves as his kiss-swollen lips part. 

  
  


“I saw your eyes upon me during your training today.”

  
  


“As did I.” The men smile caressing each other’s dewy skin. 

  
  


“Will you wait for me in my cell? I won’t be but a few hours.”

  
  


“I am afraid I cannot. I am commanded to attend celebration as well.” Pietros smiles until he watches the gladiator’s face fall. 

  
  


“Who commanded it?”

  
  


“Domina commanded Oenomaus to send all the  _ baiulus  _ to the villa to attend guests.”

  
  


“Fuck! I would not have you placed within grasp of those fuckig Romans!”

  
  


“I must. I have been commanded. What would you have me do?”

  
  


Barca’s jaw flexes and his eyes become dark. 

  
  


“Listen to me. You must be like statue. Be still and make sure your eyes find no others than my own or Doctore! When the guests begin drinking too much, steal away to the cellar. If anyone asks, use illness as excuse.”

  
  


“Are these celebrations that treacherous?”

  
  
  


“Yes, and I would not have Roman hands upon you. I want your skin to know only my touch.”

  
  


His cocky grin makes the boy smile as the heat rises in his cheeks. He pulls the gladiator down for a sweet kiss. 

  
  
  


“Message well received. Come, we must ready ourselves for the festivities.”


	4. Chapter 4

  
  


**Chapter 4**

  
  


As the night’s festivities begin, the guests begin to arrive at the villa. The wine flows as the house swells with Capua’s most prominent citizens. The wine is flowing and the food is plentiful. Naked women painted gold and wearing masks dance on the center platform surrounded by water. 

The new recruits are lined up along the wall of the main hall. Batiatus is making his way around the room vying for favor. Naevia approaches Pietros tucked away in the corner. She casually nudges the boy to get his attention. Looking up from the floor for the first time all night, Pietros’ eyes meet hers.

  
  


“Apologies. I mistook you for statue.” She smiles at him.

  
  


“I have been instructed not to make eye contact with the Romans as to not invite unwanted touch.”

  
  


“I see.”

  
  


Oenomaus paces the line of recruits ready to keep them in line. His eyes fall on Pietros but quickly turn to Batiatus as he commands the room. 

  
  


“Friends, and honored guests, may I have your attention. Tonight we celebrate the coming games of the arena. Good Sextus has blessed us with what will be a glorious occasion. A clash of the Titans if you will, featuring Crixus, the Savage Gual and Barca, the Beast of Carthage!”

  
  


The room erupts with applause and gasps as the two gladiators step onto the platform posing menacingly as they gaze around the room. Both men nod to Quintus and Oenomaus as their eyes meet. Barca finds Pietros in the corner and nods to the boy. Pietros smiles briefly before returning his eyes to the girl at his side. Naevia tries to hide a smile as Pietros avoids her gaze to hide his own. 

  
  


“Are you related to Barca?” The kind boy asks. Naevia turns to him trying to hold back a laugh.

  
  


“What gave you that impression?”

  
  


“You favor his likeness.”

  
  


“You think so?” She smiles coyly. “We are of no relation but he hails from the same homeland as my mother. I never knew my father. When he first came to the house, she was thrilled to have someone to speak her home tongue to. When Dominus’ father, Titus was head of the house, it was not like this. My mother served his wife, Dominus’ mother. She and my mother fell sick from fever. I was young but Domina placed me under her care.” 

  
  


“I hope I did not insult you. As you stated earlier, I am new to this house. I only ask to learn more of the man’s character.”

  
  


Naevia’s eyes widen as she smiles. 

  
  


“You favor him.”

  
  


Pietros’ eyes find the gladiator posing beside Crixus looking fiersome. He winks at the boy before stoning his face to the crowd. Neavia nudges him. 

  
  


“It seems he favors you as well. --I envy you. The life of a slave does not allow for such things. Cherish it.” She whispers to him. “Your man is of a form tonight.”

  
  


“He does not stand my man nor I his.”

  
  


“Your tongue says one thing but your eyes betray your heart’s desires, as do his.”

  
  


She touches his arm and smiles at the floor. The doors of the villa open as Solonius enters. Quintus’ face immediately drops upon seeing the man. Lucretia leans into her husband whispering to him. Batiatus walks over to greet the man.

  
  


“Good Solonius, how fortunate of us to be graced with your presence.”

  
  


Solonius smiles with his teeth as he sets his sights on Sextus. Glaring at Quintus, he addresses the guests.

  
  


“In honor of Good Sextus bringing his games to Capua next week, I thought it was only fitting to present him with the best Capua has to offer.”

  
  


He snaps his fingers and two large menacing gladiators fill the doorway. Crixus and Barca look at each other and then to Batiatus. Solonius grins smugly at Quintus. 

  
  


“I thought it would be entertaining to see one of my men against one of your men. No arena, no armor, no weapons. Just a showing of strength. Unless your men are not up to it.”

  
  


Oenomaus looks to Batiatus subtly shaking his head no. Solonius is goading the lunesta knowing his former friend will not take kindly to being made a fool in his own villa. 

  
  


“Good Solonius would offer entertainment for Magistrate Sextus and I would oblige in your honor of course.”

Batiatus bites his cheek as the guests clap in excitement.

  
  


“I have brought with me two of my best men, Kraynos and Franco. May I offer Kraynos to compete against whichever man you choose. The first man to as for missio stands defeated.”

  
  


Of the menacing men looming behind their master, the red-haired man steps forward. Batiatus looks Oenomaus who flexes his jaw in disapproval.

  
  


“I would choose my champion to compete. Barca!”

  
  


The crowd claps in anticipation of the match between two men. Oenomaus signals to Crixus to remove himself from the platform. The Doctore leans into Barca.

  
  


“End this quickly and do not allow him the upper hand. Dominus must be the victor.”

Pietros attempts to peer around a group of Romans to see Barca. Concern washes over his face as the gladiator is slammed into the wall. Naevia shields her eyes. 

“I cannot watch.” 

  
  


Pietros’ eyes widen at how fast everything is happening. He and Naevia look at each other, sharing in their concern.

Kraynos stands the same height as Barca but easily has more bulk on him.The challenger approaches the platform gritting his teeth at the gladiator. Barca glances over the man’s shoulder at Oenomaus who nods instilling confidence. 

Before the match can be announced, Kraynos swings at Barca. His large fist just misses Barca’s face as he leans back just out of reach. On his guard, the gladiator circles his opponent looking for an opening. Barca punches hitting the man square in the jaw. He smiles as Kraynos spits blood. Barca lands a series of body shots making the fighter stumble.

Barca pursues the man catching a fist in the jaw. He stumbles back wiping a trickle of blood falling from his lip. The fighter rushes him grabbing Barca by the waist and slamming him into the wall. The Phoenician grunts as he slides down the wall. The large fighter raises his fists to the crowd announcing his imminent victory. 

Batiatus stands tight-lipped as he looks to Lucrecia and Doctore. Barca gets to his feet and charges the man. His eyes full of fire as both men fall into the pool splashing the guests. Barca rolls on top of Kraynos and punches him in the face repeatedly drawing blood. The fighter rolls over trying to regain his footing when Barca grabs him by the hair. Wrapping his muscular arm around the fighter’s throat he pulls him to his knees. The crowd is impressed by Barca’s skill as he lowers the larger man to the ground as he cuts off his airway. At first the man thrashes in attempt to free himself from Barca’s hold. 

His face flushes with color as his fingers form the missio. Barca looks to Batiaus who is gritting his teeth at Solonius. Swiping his thumb across his neck, the lanista smiles as Barca maintains his hold on the man. The fighter’s eyes roll back into his head until his life drains from him. Once his body stills, Barca releases his grasp allowing the man’s lifeless body to collapse with a splash. 

The Romans applaud and praise Batiatus for the show. He sneers at Solonius as Sextus offers words. Pietros looks away, his face is pained with the image of Kraynos’ death. He sees the cuts on Barca’s knuckles dripping into the pool. Pietros tears away down the stairs to the paddock. The guard opens the gate allowing the upset boy to run through. Pietros slows to a walk as he passes Gnaeus’ cell. Turning away, the boy continues to his cell as he sees the man thrusting into Neolis. 

  
  


“Batiatus, your man shows good form! Quite a spectacle. I anticipate viewing your man in the arena armed with weapon.”

  
  


“He will honor you and this house with the blood of any man set against him. Barca, the Beast of Carthage!” Barca gets to his feet, his heart beating quickly as his knuckles throb. 

  
  


Oenomaus cracks his whip. “Men, dismissed!”

  
  


All of the men exit down stairs from the festivities. Krakos lingers, looking at the defeated man’s body before being ushered along. Crixus and the other men congratulate Barca on his victory. He smiles accepting his accolades.

  
  


“Our brother Barca, Beast of Carthage stands undefeated! Only moments ago, he bested Kraynos from the House of Solonius, draining the life from this man with bare hands! The legend continues!”

  
  


The men pat Barca on the back and shout his name until a chant echoes in the paddock. The gladiator smiles wide as he looks around for Pietros. Making his way to his cell, he finds the boy crouched on the floor petting one of the birds. Barca smiles as he reaches for Pietros. His bloody knuckles touch the boy’s shoulder making Pietros jump. 

  
  


“Apologies, I did not intend to frighten you. I had not laid eyes upon you since before the challenge.”

  
  


“Your hands, “ Pietros gasps as Barca looks at his cut knuckles.“Your hands that had touched me so tenderly, your hands robbed that man of life!”

  
  


Pietros’ eyes fill with tears as he gets to his feet. Placing the bird on the bench he backs away from the gladiator. 

  
  


“You now scorn my touch when only a few moments ago you relished my hands upon you? Do I now stand less worthy?”

  
  


“When I gaze upon you all that comes to memory is that man whose life you drained from him. How could you do such a thing?”

  
  


Pietros’ face is tormented by the memory of the man’s death. 

  
  


“You are a beast!”

  
  


The boy pulls away from Barca’s grasp and runs down the hall. He bumps into Oenomaus bowing in apology as he hurries outside to get some air. The instructor visits Barca’s cell. 

  
  


“Barca, you fought well this night, though I did not Intend for that man’s life to end. Dominus intended to send message to his rival though I disagree with him soiling your hands to make it so.”

  
  


Barca doesn’t move. He sits quietly petting his bird. 

  
  


“What troubles mind brother? Are your thoughts set on the boy?”

  
  


“Oenomaus, he watched me steal life and now fears my touch. I would never bring harm to the boy.”

  
  


“He is still new to the household. He may not yet understand what is required of a gladiator. You only did as commanded. I am sure he still holds you in high regard.“

  
  


Barca looks at Doctore, surprised of his knowledge of his feelings for the boy. 

“You forget, my eyes miss nothing in this ludus.”

  
  


“You did not see the fear in his eyes. He called me a beast and I question if I truly stand as he says.”

  
  


“Apologies. The boy will come to sense and embrace you as before. I will have words with the boy on your behalf.”

  
  


“No. I would not have it. I am what he says.” Barca looks away mindlessly petting his bird.

  
  


“Barca you are an honorable man, one that I gladly call brother.”

  
  


He takes his leave, retiring to his private domicile. Barca hears the sound of footsteps approaching. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Pietros walk to the paddock with the other  _ baiulus. _ Barca sighs as the boy purposely sits in the corner out of his view. Sitting alone in his cell the gladiator stares at his sore knuckles. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

  
  


At first light, the gladiator visits the medicus to have his hand cared for. The throbbing in his hand seems to be his only companion as the boy actively avoids his presence and Crixus was called to the villa this morning. Instead he throws himself into his training. During the midday break, Barca forgoes his meal in favor of working the pallets. Crixus returns to the training yard and joins Oenomaus as he watches Barca. 

  
  


“Barca fights with such fury and anger.”

  
  


“But without concentration. Troubled mind steals focus.”

  
  


That evening, Barca picks at his meal before retiring to the baths. Crixus finishes his food and follows his sullen friend to the baths to have words. 

  
  


“Brother, you are not yourself. Speak mind as to what troubles you.”

Crixus touches his shoulder as his gravelly voice fills the nearly empty bathhouse. 

  
  


“Gratitude for the concern. I would not have your mind weighted with my thoughts.”

  
  


“What happened between you and the boy?”

  
  


“He fears me after he witnessed contest last night in the villa.”

  
  


“Does he not understand that you stand a gladiator?”

  
  


Barca sits quietly staring at the wall. 

  
  


“The boy has stolen your heart so quickly. You should break words and renew intent. Tomorrow we take to the sand in the arena. I would not see you fall due to troubled thoughts. Your thoughts should be on blood and victory!”

  
  


“Do not worry brother. You will not be rid of me so soon.” Barca smirks as he clasps arms with Crixus.

  
  


“I take my leave. I would have sleep.” Barca leaves the bath and retires to his cell.

  
  


The next morning, all of the men take morning meal. Barca and Crixus and three other gladiators stand behind Batiatus’ wagon. The remaining men roar to encourage the gladiators on what may be their last day in this world. Pietros stands next to one of the columns looking at Barca as he leaves. 

  
  


As the gates close, Pietros stands disappointed in himself. Neolis taps his shoulder to attend to their duties. 

  
  


“Pietros, what troubles you? I have not seen you smile for two days. It is unlike you.”

  
  


“Apologies. Heavy thoughts weigh mind.”

  
  


“Speak then and have weight lifted.”

  
  


“I do not wish to cause discomfort in discussion of former lover.”

  
  


“I am under no gise of what we shared. He desired comfort and I the provider. Now, I have new arrangement with another.”

  
  


“Yes, I have witnessed. The other night in the villa, he was challenged to fight the man Kraynos. Watching him drain that man of life was unsettling.”

  
  


“Are you not aware of what it means to be a gladiator? These men are trained and celebrated as fighting gods, yet stand as glorified slaves. We all do as we must, as commanded for survival. What do you think would happen if he were to deny Dominus? Death will soon follow. Do not judge the man for what he must do, gauge the man on what he chooses to do.”

  
  


“Gratitude Neolis. You ease mind.”

  
  


“I am glad I could aid in this matter.--I would assist further.”

  
  


“In what sense.”

  
  


“I knew he would favor you when you arrived to this house. You are most fortunate to have Barca’s affections. He stands in high regard amongst the men. His skill as gladiator is unmatched, as well as his lover. You will be well satisfied!”

  
  


Neolis bumps Pietros with his shoulder hiding a knowing smile. 

  
  


“Pietros, you stand a kind soul. I see glimmers of love in your eyes. As a slave, love is not something within grasp. It requires choice, something we are absent of. If there is even a sliver of real love to be had, you must grasp it tightly and never let go!”

  
  


“Gratitude Neolis. This talk has been most educational.”

  
  


“Break words tonight, so that you may celebrate the impending victory!”

  
  


With Neolis’ words scrolling through his mind, Pietros’ mood brightens. He puts extra effort into attending the training. Upon taking their evening meal, Pietros sees Ashur return to villa absent Dominus and the gladiators. The Syrian gestures to one of the recruits. Krakus walks over ushering the man into the corner of the dining hall. Handing the fighter some kind of tool wrapped in a scrap of fabric, the two disappear into the paddock.

Brushing the thought away he focuses on the gladiator’s return. By the time the evening has set in, the gates to the ludus open. Batiatus stands in the sea next to the driver shouting.

  
  


“‘The House of Batiatus’ rises yet again! Our champions return to fight another day. My titans, Crixus, The Savage Gual, and Barca, The Beast of Carthage! Noble victories from Gnaeus, Rhaskos,and Ortius honor this house. Wine for the house! Tonight we celebrate and come tomorrow we will set if any of the new recruits will pass the test and join this honored brotherhood!”

  
  


The men break out in a roar of celebration, as gladiators make their way into the ludus. They are all in good spirits accepting their accolades from the other men.

Lucretia and Naevia exit the wagon, following Quintus into the villa. Nodding to Neolis and Pietros to retrieve the wine, Oenomaus has the remaining boys pass out cups. Filling their cups, the men toast their brothers as the new recruits wait their turn. Crixus and Barca stand before them and knock their cups from their hands. With a laugh the veterans address the trainees. 

  
  


“Wine and celebration are for those who bear the mark! You are not yet brothers. We will see tomorrow if celebration is earned!” The Gaul grins as Barca teases the men.

  
  


“Off to the baths with you cunts! Tomorrow we shall see which of you possess cock and balls!”

  
  


The men sulk as they walk to the baths. Krakos walks past Pietros grumbling something to one of the men. 

  
  


“We will show those fucks tomorrow when they fall upon backs during the test! I have score to settle with that Phoenicain fuck, Barca!”

  
  


Pietros is troubled by the man’s words but is startled when a hand falls on his shoulder. He jumps turning to see Crixus holding up his cup. 

“Apologies. I did not intend to cause alarm. I only sought to fill my cup and with it break words.”

His deep voice and intense stare intimidate the boy standing anxiously before him. 

  
  


“I am not a man of pretty words revealing innermost thought, nor is Barca, but we are unable to disguise our feelings. It is clear to see his heart suffers. I witnessed this look once before, when his lover Auctus fell to my sword. I would not have it remain so.”

  
  


“Apologies. It was not my intention to cause such a reaction. I am new to this house and fear I misunderstood how things are. Worry not, I intend to break words with Barca. I owe him an apology for misjudging him.”

  
  


“Glad to hear. Opportune moment presents itself. He gestures to Barca who leaves the celebration.”

  
  


“Gratitude.” He remarks as Pietros hands over the pitcher of wine. He fills two cups of wine and follows the gladiator. He approaches Barca’s cell but finds the man absent. Pietros enters deciding to wait.

  
  


Barca returns to his cell surprised to see the boy attending to his birds.

  
  


“Pietros, what brings you here? Do you offer more scornful words to fill my ears?

  
  


The boy corrals the birds back into their cages, all except the little one with the broken wing. Pietros sits on the bench leaving enough space for Barca to join him. The gladiator stands fresh from the baths, his jaw flexing as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

  
  


“Pietros, I grow tired. Break words quickly.”

  
  


“Please, sit.”

  
  


Barca sighs, his resolve weakened by the big brown eyes pleading with him. He sits beside the boy allowing their thighs to touch. 

  
  


“I came to break words. To offer my apologies, Barca. I acted rash and judged you in haste. I am new to this house, to the ways of the ludus. I do not know the life of a gladiator. With the freedoms you have, I forget that you too stand as slave. You must do as commanded absent choice. My words were misplaced when I named you beast. You have shown me nothing but kindness and at first test, I return good deeds with scorn.”

  
  


Pietros touches Barca’s bandaged hand.

  
  


“I would not see you take another man’s life.”

  
  


“Then what would you have me do?”

  
  


Pietros touches Barca’s face, staring into his dark eyes. 

“I would have you victorious. Survive as we all must. To have you from my arms would cause my heart to seize in chest.” The boy moves closer to Barca, his hands caressing the gladiator’s strong jaw.

  
  


“I would not have it so. I have known the pain of which you speak. It has been my constant companion throughout my life. I would wish it upon no other.”

  
  


“Then let us push unpleasant memories far from thought in favor of celebration. We shall appreciate the blessing of life with each victory.”

  
  


“So you no longer fear my hands?”

  
  


“I have felt their warmth but once, yet I know nothing comes close to the heat between us when your hands are upon me.”

  
  


Pietros slides Barca’s hands around his waist as he climbs into the gladiator’s lap. Barca smiles as the boy kisses him softly. Barca’s bandaged hand holds onto the boy’s waist as the other guides Pietros’ chin to the angle he desires. The gladiator takes control kissing Pietros deeply. Their tongues caress as Barca’s firm grip holds Pietros in place. The boy grinds his ass onto the impatient man’s lap. Barca grunts as his cock stirs beneath the bathing cloth.

  
  


Heaving chests press against one another as their feverish kissing ignites their passion. Releasing Pietros from his possessive grasp, the gladiator hastily removes the boy’s sublegeria and tosses the garment on the ground. Heat rushes to Pietros’ ears as Barca’s hands rub his chest. Tracing the lines of his body, the gladiator’s rough hands travel down to the boy’s waiting erection. 

  
  


Under Barca’s skillful touch, the boy’s cock springs to life. Taking both of their cocks in his hand, Barca strokes firmly reclaiming Pietros’s lips. The boy wraps his slim arms around his lover’s neck, combing his fingers through Barca’s braids. Some of the other gladiators return to their cells after all of the celebrations. Crixus walks by, but seeing both men ignore his brief pause, he walks away smiling and shaking his head. 

The gladiator kisses the boy’s jawline, his heated breath upon the sensitive skin of Petros’s neck. Arching the boy back, Barca kisses down his chest stopping to tease Pietros’s nipples with his skilled tongue. Pietros moans into Barca’s shoulder making the man smile as he returns his lips to the boy’s. Pietros pulls away slightly, smiling at the man pressed against him. Sliding off of Barca’s lap, the boy kneels in front of him. Spreading his long, muscular thighs apart Pietros guides his lover’s cock into his mouth. 

Barca groans as the boy’s hot mouth envelops him. Fingering the boy’s curly hair, Barca guides his mouth as the boy sucks his cock. Surprised at how familiar the boy is with pleasuring a man Barca relishes the attention. He closes his eyes to focus on Pietros’s tongue caressing his raging hard on. The foreskin recedes, allowing him to focus on the sensitive tip as the boy strokes him. Pietros quickens his pace until Barca pulls his engorged cock from the boy’s lips. Pulling the boy off his knees, Barca pulls him close to kiss him, rubbing their bodies together. 

  
  


“I must prepare you.” The gladiator growls as he turns the boy around. Having him kneel on the cot, Barca guides him down on all fours. Standing behind Pietros, the Phoenican spreads the boy’s ass exposing the sensitive entrance. Leaning in the more experienced man plys the boy with his skilled tongue. Pietros grips the wool blanket beneath his hands as bolts of pleasure run the length of his body. Using his saliva, the gladiator does his best to lubricate his trembling lover. Pietros moans with lidded eyes as Barca services him.

  
  


“Barca, I want you inside me.”

  
  


“When I first laid eyes upon you, I knew one day you would beg for my cock!”

  
  


Pietros smiles as Barca flips him onto his back. The gladiator strokes the boy’s thighs as he pushes them up to Pietros’s chest. Barca flashes his smile as he leans down to kiss his lover. Pietros wraps his arms around Barca’s neck as he feels his lover breach the tight ring of muscle. 

  
  


Barca slides inside him as he kisses the boy’s neck. Pietros arches against his lover digging his fingers into Barca’s strong shoulders. Waiting for the boy to relax, Barca strokes the boy’s hardened cock as he peppers kisses along his jawline. Feeling the ring of muscle relax under his experienced musings, Barca thrusts inside the boy. 

  
  


Smiling smugly, the man watches Pietros moan as his senses are overloaded. His skin pricks with goose pimples as his lover roams his body with heated touch. Barca’s steady rhythm lulls him into a pleasurable trance. Pietros stares up at his lover, Barca’s face full of pride as he satisfies the boy beneath him. Pietros’s gaze travels down the gladiator’s sweat glistened chest. 

  
  


Reaching for Pietros’s hand, Barca presses the boy’s palm against his chest. The gladiator’s heart is pounding as he continues to thrust into the boy beneath him. Barca’s brow furrows seeing the boy straining. Sliding his arm under Pietro’s waist, the gladiator lifts the boy into his arms. Pietros slides into Barca’s lap with a moan, grasping to his lover’s muscular shoulders. 

  
  


He relaxes in the new position as the more experienced man beneath him adjusts their bodies. Firmly holding the boy’s hips, Barca allows him to control their pace. Pietros pushes the gladiator down on his back giving his lover a full view of his body. Slowly rolling his hips the boy tests his range of movement, watching for his lover’s reaction. Barca’s eyes appreciatively roam Pietros’s taught frame as he rides the gladiator. 

  
  


The boy’s hot breath tickles his neck as he leans in to taste his lips. Grasping Barca’s long braids, Pietros pulls his lover closer encouraging the man to deepen their connection with continued touch. Interlocking their fingers, Barca sits up to increase his pace. The urgency of his movements suggest his impending ,but Barca’s touch remains gentle and patient.

  
  


Feeling the boy’s muscles tighten the gladiator knows neither of them will last much longer. Barca reaches for the boy’s twitching cock, stroking to release. Leaning back, Pietros digs his fingers into Barca’s thighs arching his back as his pleasure rolls through him. Sitting up Barca claims Pietros’s lips as the boy’s cock twitches to completion. The gladiator grunts into the boy’s neck as their sweat drenched chests heave trying to regain their senses. Pietros collapses into Barca’s arms, satiated from their spirited lovemaking. 

  
  


Barca lowers the boy to the wooden cot offering his arm as a pillow. Pietros looks up at Barca as the man gently caresses his sensitive skin. The boy’s lidded eyes sparkle as his bright smile greets his lover. Barca places his hand on the boy’s chest as Pietros squeezes their hands together. 

  
  


“Barca, I have never reached such heights. The heavens seem within grasp.”

  
  


“I am pleased to hear you satisfied, though my cock never fails when put to task!” The gladiator grins as he leans down to kiss the boy.

  
  


“I was caught off guard by your gentle touch.”

  
  


“My hands can be firm when wielding deadly weapon or gentle when embracing delicate things.”

  
  


“Sleep claims me as I am already within a dream as long as I am within your arms.” Barca smiles at Pietro’s flattery as he throws the wool blanket over their nestled bodies as they drift off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The next morning, Pietros awakens alone in bed. He sits up, stretches and gathers himself. Using Barca’s disregarded bathing cloth he washes the dried remnants of last night’s lovemaking from his skin. He reaches for his subligeria  
and notices a slight throb in his lower back. Shaking it off, he heads to the dining hall. The sun almost blinds him as he walks outside. Neolis walks up to him with the widest grin on his face.

“Pietros, you dog! You made up with Barca last night!” The boy shys away from the young man’s inference.

“How do you fare? His cock is of encouraging size. I’ve seen none to match it in this house.”

“I wish not to discuss such things!”

Pietros walks towards the food.

“Ooh. Have I hit a nerve?--Worry not my young friend, you have nothing to fear from me. I offered the man my body to comfort him but the man refused anything more than my mouth on cock. For him to bed you, you hold his favor and I envy you.” Pietros stands surprised at the man’s admission.

“Do not pity me, my boy. I find comfort with others for exchange of coin. I do not plan to remain within these walls. I finally have enough coin to purchase freedom.”

Pietros’s eyes snap to the man.

“Is such a thing possible?”

“It surely does not stand the impossible. I will discuss matter with Dominus after the test tonight. He is sure to be in pleasant mood. I have no skill in negotiation that is why I seek an audience with the Syrian.”

“Asher. He would negotiate on your behalf?”

“For a price of course. Do you lay eyes upon the man?”

They look around the paddock. Pietros spots him conversing with Barca. Ashur smiles his insincere smile as he hands the gladiator a bundle of cloth that fits his large hand.

“He stands there.”

Pietros watches Barca take the package into the paddock. Neolis races over to Ashur to break words. The boy takes his breakfast and sits with the other baiulus. He watches the entrance to the paddock to catch Barca as he reemerges. Instead he catches the eye of Crixus. The Gual gestures for the boy to come to him.

“Good Morning Crixus. I hope a restful sleep found you last night.”

“I see you headed my words to heart.”

The boy smiles into his gruel as he sits uncomfortably.

“Yes. I took your words to heart and put them to action.”

Crixus looks over the boy’s shoulder as Pietros feels a heavy hand on his shoulder. He turns to see his lover standing behind him.

“I am surprised you make appearance so soon. I was inclined to speak to Oenamaus on your behalf.”

Pietros feels the heat rise in his ears as Barca musses his tight curls. The boy smiles attempting to hide his elation.

“Gratitude for your concern, but I am well.”

Pietros gazes up into Barca’s eyes. The towering gladiator grins before leaning down to reach for the bowl of porridge on the table. Pressing his chest against Pietros, the boy arches back into Barca’s heated skin relishing this chance for some contact with his lover. 

“Have you eye on Neolis? The bowl stands his.”

Pietros looks around in search of his friend. Barca slides the bowl to himself and begins eating with a grin. 

“He should know better than abandoning food in this place. It will be eaten!”

The boy rolls his eyes as Barca and Crixus laugh. The gladiator wraps his arm around Pietros’s neck jostling him against his side. 

Getting up from the bench, the boy gets in line to replace the food Barca confiscated. Upon grabbing a bowl to fill with porridge, he is grasped forcefully from behind the neck. The bowl falls from his grasp shattering on the stone floor. 

He turns and is face to face with the rough Gnaeus. The boy struggles to free himself from the man’s grip as the grizzly man grins at him.

“Boy, you fuck the Phoenician shit last night. If you seek a real man, my cock would welcome you upon it!”

Gnaeus sneers looking the frightened boy up and down. Suddenly the man is knocked into a food table, groaning as he rolls onto the ground with a thud. Pietros looks over and sees an angry Barca standing over the bruised man. The men gather to cheer on the fight. 

“You shit-eating fuck! Place hands upon the boy again, and find their usefulness forfeit!”

The stunned man gets to his feet and begins wildly swinging at Barca. Dodging his fists, the gladiator kicks Gnaeus in the stomach. Stumbling to catch himself, Gnaeus is unable to block Barca’s knee to the face. Blood drips from his nose and lip as he attempts to recover. Doctore’s whip cracks breaking up the crowd. 

“Barca, Gnaeus! What is the meaning of this?” Both men stare at Oenomaus not uttering a word. “Someone had better find tongue!”

“Doctore, it was only a misunderstanding. All is well.” Barca states warning the bleeding man.

Oenomaus exhamines Gnaeus’ wounds. “Half rations, for you both for the remainder of the day!” Both men glare at each other as Pietros wipes porridge off of his leg. 

“Gladiators! Finish morning meal and ready yourselves for today’s training!” He cracks his whip again watching as Barca walks away. The gladiator watches Gnaeus slinks away to tend to his wounded pride. Turning his attentions Pietros, Barca’s scowl softens. 

“Apologies.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. If not for you..” Barca grabs him behind the neck pulling his head close so they touch. 

“I do not care for his hands upon you.”

“Nor I. I am much more fond of your gentle touch.” They share a smile as Barca helps the boy to his feet. Handing Pietros the bowl of food, the gladiator ushers the boy back to the table. 

“That ugly fuck won’t be eating this.” He laughs as he follows Pietros back to his table. Crixus sits with a smug smile.

“I gather that display marks your claim on the boy.” 

Crixus chides his brother as they finish their breakfast.. Pietros sits beside Barca leaving space as not to crowd the man. The gladiator reaches for the boy’s waist pulling him closer. 

“I would have you by my side for your protection. At least until you become more aware.”

“Should I expect rough hands upon me as I stand unguarded?”

“I will stand as wall shielding you from attack, from these animals.”

“I may need you to stand as protection indefinitely.”

“I would happily lend strength to have it so.” The pair smile and press their heads together. Barca squeezes the boy’s leg affectionately as the Gual rolls his eyes. Finishing his food, Crixus stands from the table, ready to tease his friend.

“Apologies for disrupting your honeymoon, but we have training to attend to. Tonight stands the test and I would put fear into the hearts of these unworthy shits!”

Barca glares at Crixus before turning his attention back to the boy. Planting a possessive kiss on the boy’s lips, Barca leaves the table to ready himself for training. Pietros watches the Phoenician walk onto the sands attaching his ocrea. The boy stares as the gladiator stretches, not noticing Neolis’ return. 

“I leave you for one moment and I miss everything! What happened? I heard a ruckus then Doctore’s whip. Come find tongue!”

Neolis presses the boy for information. 

“You only press for idol gossip!”

“True, but if you know what I’m after then why continue to hold tongue?”

“Barca ate your bowl so I returned to line to fetch you another. Gnaeus comes from behind and grasps neck with rough hands. Barca beat him bloody until Doctore put quarrel to end.”

“Is that all? Your eyes betray your desires as you stare at the Phoenician.”  
Pietros can’t hide his smile as he focuses on his bowl of half eaten porridge. 

“A word of caution with Gnaeus, he is a brute with no motivation but his own desire. I have felt his rough hands upon me. Stay far from the man, though I doubt he will challenge Barca. Your man had him in the arena, his life only spared as favor from the editor to Dominus. With your bright smile, I am certain you will not lose Barca’s favor. He was devoted lover to Auctus and if he chose you, his devotion will not wane. Satisfy him well little one!” Neolis teases making the boy smile. 

“Did you break words with the Syrian?”

“Yes. A deal was struck. After evening meal, I will speak to Dominus.”

“What price was set?”

“Ashur thinks he can negotiate twenty denari.”

“That is a hefty sum. Do you have it?”

“Just barely.”

“May the gods hear your prayers.”

“Gratitude.”

“What do you plan to do with your freedom?

“I would head to Macedonia. I would start a small farm, take a wife, and start a family.” Pietros stares at him. 

“You would take a wife?”

“Yes, you stand surprised? Understand that as slave, a man will do what he must to survive. I wish for this life to become distant memory.”

Pietros offers his heartfelt congratulations as he and Neolis clasp arms. Quickly the two baiulus finish their meal and head to the sand to assist Doctore with the days training. 

Throughout the day, Barca’s eyes steal glances of the boy. Pleased to be greeted with a warm smile from Pietros, Barca puts his full effort into his training. Gnaeus returns to the yard with fresh bruises maring his face, scowling at the Phoenician as he pairs with Krakos. Barca shows off a little, knowing the boys’ eyes are upon him. As the sun sets, Doctore ends the day’s training early. 

“Gladiators attend! Recruits attend! This night stands the final test. We shall see what you have learned, and if you are worthy of being branded a member of the sacred brotherhood. Each of you six recruits must best a seasoned gladiator to earn the mark. Those of you who pass the test will be welcomed as brothers and will continue their training in hope of glorious victory upon the sands of the arena. 

Those who are unworthy will be sent to the mines. While you take evening meal, consider lessons learned. Fight with honor or die with it! Fight until you can no longer stand! Fight to show Dominus, your brothers, and me that your lives aren’t worthless! Dismissed!”

The men head to the dining hall as the baiulus put away the practice swords and begin assembling the platform for the test. Oenomaus enters the villa to speak with Dominus prior to the start of the display. The hall is roaring with men trash talking each other and boasting of skill. 

After completing his additional chores in preparation for the test, Pietros forgoes the food line in favor of water. He reaches for the ladle to draw a drink, savoring the cool water as it passes his lips. A hand slips around his waist, as he is spun around into the arms of his towering lover. Looking up at Barca’s smug grin, the boy smiles wrapping his arms around the man’s neck. 

The gladiator pulls Pietros into the shadows kissing him passionately against the wall. His hands hoist the boy into his arms allowing Pietros to lock his thin legs around the gladiator’s waist. Pietros smiles at Barca’s feverish yearning.

“You desire me?”

“My thoughts are of nothing else but the warmth of your thighs as you rode my cock and the taste of your lips.” Pietros moans as Barca presses his hard body into the boy firmly planting him against the warm stone.

“Apologies. My tongue is not gifted with words, but it does have other uses.”  
Barca’s cocky smile and devious eyes betray his intentions. 

“Then I would have demonstration.”

“I did not expect you to be so forward, but your words have landed with desired purpose.”

Running his fingers through the course curls of the boy’s hair, Barca exposes the sensitive skin of Pietros’s neck. The boy moans as his neck is teased with heated breath and soft kisses. Moaning, Pietros digs his fingers into Barca’s shoulders as the man growls into his neck. The gladiator sighs as he lowers the boy to the ground. 

“Pause a moment. I would continue when we will not be interrupted.”

“I would have it so.”

Both men smile as they adjust themselves before joining the group. Standing in line, Barca converses with the man standing in front of him. Pietros looks around the mess hall until his eyes fall upon a huddled Kraynos, Gneaus, and Ashur. The sight of the men speaking secretly and their eyes falling on Barca makes his stomach drop.

After getting bowls for the both of them, Pietros follows Barca to their usual table. Crixus nods to the couple as they take their seats. The two gladiators jest as they take their meal.

“Tonight is the test. What are your thoughts on the men? Barca shakes his head. 

“Dominus will be fortunate if half of these pathetic fucks pass the test!”

“You must be pleased with the addition of Gauls, brother!”

“I care not if the new recruits stand as Gauls or Cellts or even Thracians. This house needs fighting men that will survive the arena.”

“If we are to honor this house and add victories to our names, we can not allow inferior men to mire us in shit!”

“Agreed. What would you have me do?”

“As I said before, we need to push these fucks. I would have our best men challenge the recruits.”

“Doctore would pair the recruits against men of equal skill. You would challenge them to defeat a brother of superior skill. I will go break words with the men. I would have them challenge the recruits and send unworthy men to the mines. You should broach subject with Doctore.”

“I will see it done, brother.”

Pietros touches Barcas arm. 

“Barca I would urge caution. There are those who would wish misfortune upon you.” The boy gestures to the table in the corner. Their eyes find the three men, Ashur, Gnaeus, and Krakos, huddled suspiciously in the corner,

“Those three fucks look at us as if we stand as rabbit and they as circling jackels.” Barca smiles smugly. “I would give demonstration, I will take that fat, shit-eater myself!” 

Pietros turns to him with fear in his eyes. “Barca please use caution. I fear those men would take your life.”

The gladiator touches his chin to quell his fear. “Would you mourn my death, my little bird?”

“I would put such thought from mind, Pietros. I stand undefeated in the arena and none in this house present challenge.” He gazes over at Crixus with his cocky grin watching the Gaul lean back and cross his arms.

Crixus laughs as he holds out his arm for his friend to clasp. “I pray one day we will be given contest so I can make you eat your words!” 

The two men smile as they continue to eat leaving Pietros to continue watching the huddled men. Feeling Barca’s hand squeeze his thigh the boy smiles slightly.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Doctore returns to the paddocks and Barca approaches to break words before Oenomaus assembles the men for the test. The guards light torches around the yard as Quintus and Lucretia take their seats on the balcony. Oenomaus cracks his whip to get the attention of the men.

“Gladiators, recruits! Tonight is the test we will see which men possess the skill to become gladiators. The rules are simple. Each recruit will be challenged by a seasoned gladiator upon the bridge. If the recruit is knocked from the bridge, he loses the match and is unworthy of this house. Any recruit who is able to best a gladiator will receive the mark and join the brotherhood. Do not stop fighting until you can no longer hold weapon or the sound of my whip finds your ear. Dominus would address you.”

The men raise their gaze to the balcony as Batiatus raises his hands to address the men.

“You arrived at this ludus as simple slaves. You had no purpose, no honor, no meaning to your worthless lives. Under the watchful eye and instruction of Doctore you have been given opportunity to change your fates! Tonight, each of you will stand on this bridge and battle one of my titans for the mark of the brotherhood. 

The House of Batiatus was built on the blood, sweat, and victory in the arena. This is your chance to show me, your dominus, your doctore, and your brothers the fire that burns within your breast! The honor your victories will bring to this house will see it rise to new heights with you as gods!”

The men cheer, “Batiatus! Batiatus! Batiatus!”

Quintus relishes in the excitement before taking his seat. 

“Doctore, I turn the test over to you.”

Oenomaus nods before turning his attention to the recruits. Pietros and the other three bauluis stand in wait on the steps to arm the men. “Tersus take position!” 

Before he can call a gladiator, Pollux a Numidian gladiator steps forward.  
“Doctore, I would challenge this man!” Pollux nods at Crixus and Barca as he takes his position on the bridge. Taking weapon, the man nods to Doctore. 

“Pollux take position!” Both men face each other awaiting the order to fight. 

“Begin!”

The recruit yells and charges at Pollux. Tersus attacks but the seasoned gladiator is able to deflect. The men cheer on their brother as the other recruits shout words of encouragement to Tersus. Pollux hits him across the back. The recruit falls to his knee as Pollux back hands him. Spitting blood, Tersus is unable to defend against Pollux as he strikes the man in the chest with the hilt of the gladius. The defeated man falls backwards off the bridge with a thud. The men cheer on Pollux as he celebrates his victory. The guards gather Tersus and chain him to the wall to await the mine cart.

“Pollux victor! Next Liscus, take position!”

“I would challenge him, Doctore!” The Gual steps forward. Doctore nods. 

“Rhaskos, take position!” Both men stare at each other. Rhaskos growls and pounds his chest trying to intimidate the recruit. 

“Begin!” Doctore cracks his whip. 

Liscus circles the gladiator. Clashing with Rhaskos, the recruit attempts to push his opponent back. Rhaskos knees Liscus in the stomach knocking the recruit to the platform. Rolling to the edge of the platform, Liscus is able to block the gladiator’s heavy blow.

The gladiator leans into his weapon, smiling at his impending victory. Rhaskos disarms the recruit. Liscus reaches for the gladius as it slides off the bridge. Quintus sits tight-lipped in attempt to hide his disappointment with his stock.

Liscus kicks Rhaskos as he attacks sending the man stumbling backwards. Catching himself, the gruff gladiator releases the grip of his weapon. With both men left unarmed, Rhaskos rolls on top of Liscus and begins wailing on the man. Liscus guards his face as the men cheer on Rhaskos. Liscus clasps his hands together and wacks his opponent in the face. The rough Gual spits blood as both men get to their feet ready to attack. Doctore cracks his whip as Quintus applauds with excitement!

“This is what I want to see! This man has a fire within him. Give him the mark!”

Liscus cheers as the men roar in approval. Wiping the blood dripping from his lip, Rhaskos grins. Extending his arm in congratulations, the men clasp arms as a sign of respect. Both men climb down off the platform as Liscus is welcomed among the brothers.

Four more battles commence on the bridge each of the gladiators giving no quarter. Doctore looks over the men. Four men will join the brotherhood, Liscus, Acer, Tyroinus, and Sigo. Tersus waits for the mines and one man has given life against Crixus in pursuit of the mark. Liscus stands before Crixus and Barca addressing them as he catches his breath. 

“I would be proud to call you brothers and take my place on the sand beside Crixus, leader of the Gauls, and Barca, Beast of Carthage!”

“Well received brother. I would see you all victorious upon the sand.” Crixus glances at Barca with a slight smile. 

Dominus’ mood is lifted as he sees the value of his new stock. Barca looks up at Pietros as he and the other boys are setting up for the last test. Catching the boy’s eye, he winks before being jostled by the celebrating gladiators below. Pietros smiles until he looks over seeing Ashur in the corner. He finishes a conversation with the last recruit before gesturing to Neolis. The two men disappear into the paddock together unseen by most save Doctore and Barca as he follows the boys’ line of sight. Doctore’s whip cracks calling for the attention of the men.

“Take position Krakos!”

“I would have Barca as opponent!” The recruit shouts as he stands on the bridge leering down at Barca. The gladiator flashes his cocky grin as the other men cheer him on.

“Very well you fat shit! I will gladly send you on your way to the mines or the afterlife. We’ll see if the gods show you favor this night!” Pietros takes his place on the step behind Krakos. The men await the sound of Doctore’s whip. 

“Begin!” Krakos charges Barca. The tall fighter blocks his attack keeping Krakos at bay with his long reach. Pushing Krakos back across the platform, his heavy blows knock the man back as Barca goes on the attack. The Phoenecian uses his skill to keep his opponent at bay. 

Lunging at Barca, the recruit attacks out of desperation. Grabbing the hildt Krakos’ gladius, Barca greets him with an elbow to the teeth. The recruit’s mouth fills with blood as he falls to his knee. Barca knees him in the face, breaking Krakos’ nose. The man falls back losing his weapon. Barca sticks his gladius in the corner of the platform before leaning down to the man.

“You are not worthy!”

Barca warns him before turning to the riled gladiators. Krakos grits his teeth as he reaches into his shoe. He pulls a sharp makeshift tool, concealing it as he gets to his feet. Pietros catches the gleam of the weapon and leaps into action. Without a second thought, Pietros calls to Barca, warning of the man’s sneak attack as he leaps on Krakos’ back. 

“Barca, he has weapon intended to kill you!” The startled fighter tries to shake free from the boy’s hold on him. Barca sees Pietros and his stomach drops. The recruit spins around trying to remove the boy from his back. 

Krakos grits his teeth as he flips the boy over his head towards the end of the platform. Pietros lands on his back with a thud. Barca charges the man, grabbing his hand with the weapon and flipping Krakos onto his back. Dropping the weapon the man groans as he lays on the platform. 

Barca leans down to check on Pietros when he spots Krakos get up and charge him. Swinging wildly, the crazed man swings wildly at Barca. Protecting Pietros he leaves himself open and catches the man’s fist in the jaw. Barca is knocked back but he catches himself. The men below shout and taunt the cheating recruit. 

Batiatus stands gritting his teeth anxious to see the conclusion of the flight. Looking at Oenomaus, he signals not to stop them yet. Krakos eyes his makeshift weapon but Pietros recovers the tool first. The boy moves quickly when the recruit wildly charges him. Krakos goes for Barca’s sword and charges the boy. The coppery taste of blood coats Pietros’ tongue as the gruff recruit punches him with the hildt to get to Barca. 

“If I am to die this night, I will take you with me, you Phoenician cunt! You took the life of my brother Kraynos. As vengeance, I would have your life as payment!” He spits at Barca.

Batiatus calls to Oenamuas to end this. Barca looks annoyed as he catches the man’s wrists holding him from landing his strike. “End this foolishness at once!”

Doctore’s whip wraps around the man’s wrist pulling him and Barca towards the edge of the platform. Pietros sticks out his foot tripping the aggressive recruit. Barca releases his grip pulling the weapon from Krakos’s hand as he falls. In a futile attempt to save himself, Krakos grabs on to Pietros, pulling the boy off the platform with him. Barca drops the sword reaching for Pietros but is too late as the two men fall to the sand below. The men scramble to see what happened leaving Quintus and Lucretia peering over the balcony. 

There is blood on Pietros’s arm and chest while Krakos bleeds into the sand.   
Barca jumps from the platform rushing to the boys side looking for injury. 

“I assure you, the blood is not mine.” The boy sits up holding his sore cheek.   
Barca wipes the trickle of blood from the corner of the boy’s mouth. Touching Pietros’s cheek, Barca smiles as the boy nuzzles his hand reassuring his  
Crixus and the other men roll the recruit over. The makeshift tool is lodged into his chest.

“Deserved fate for one unworthy of the mark!” Batiatus races through the paddock followed by the armed guards. The gladiators make a hole.

“Doctore! What is the meaning of all this?”

“Dominus, this man Krakos attacked Barca with sharpened tool. He concealed weapon in order to exact vengeance for his fallen brother, Kraynos. He was Solonius’s man who gave contest in the villa a few nights past.”

“This man moved to kill one of my best men in vengeance for victory in fair contest?-- Jupiter’s fucking cock! Does the man yet draw breath?”

“No Dominus. He is gone to the after-life at the hands of the boy.”

“A kindness bestowed to him, for his punishment would be great for this kind of dishonor in my ludus.”

Quintus scowls at the man gesturing to the guards to remove the body. 

“Let him be reunited with his brother.”

Turning to Barca and Pietros, the boy sees Quintus’ eyes upon them. He reassures Barca that he stands unharmed as they get to their feet. 

“You boy, come here!”

Quintus approaches Pietros crossing his arms as he sizes up the boy. 

“What is your name?”

“I am called Pietros, Dominus,” he states, averting his eyes to the ground.

“You risk life jumping between my two fighters and disrupt honored ritual?”

“Apologies Dominus.”

“What possessed you to do such a thing?”

Pietros looks at Barca.

“Come, find tongue!”

“Apologies Dominus. I did not intend to disrupt the test. I witnessed the man draw weapon with intent to harm Barca. My only intention was to aid Barca and repay kindness bestowed upon me when first coming to this house. I did not intend to take the man’s life. It was an accident. Forgive me.”

Batiatus slaps the boy on the shoulder and laughs. “There is nothing to forgive my boy. You have done me a favor ridding me of this shit. Barca is far too valuable to this house to be lost this night. He is destined for more victories in the arena!”

Oenomaus steps forward offering a proud smile to the boy. “Pietros, what you did was foolish. However, your actions upheld the honor of this house.”

“Agreed. You must be rewarded!” Batiatus turns to address the men. 

“This night, I set to test new recruits against trained gladiators. The gods smile upon us and we will see this house rise! The bravery this boy has shown against a man, a giant in comparison should stand as inspiration to the rest of you. Fight with honor upon the sand and the gods will bless you and this house! 

Doctore, give the boy the mark. Pietros has shown courage and he embodies the true meaning of the brotherhood!--Now I would have celebration for the new members of the brotherhood. Welcome Liscus, Acer, Sigo, Tyroinus and Pietros!”

Oenomaus nods to the boy as he is jostled around by the men. The brothers celebrate as the iron is heated. The men recite the oath in unison as each receives the mark. 

“I commit my flesh, my mind, my will to the glory of this ludus and the commands of my master, Batiatus. I swear to be burned, chained, beaten or die by the sword in the arena!”

Oenomaus stands in front of the boy, the iron glowing hot. 

“Doctore, I wished to break words. I fear this mark is unearned. I did nothing of note and that man’s life was taken by accident. It was not by my hand. I am no gladiator.”

“This is true. However, you acted with honor this night. You put yourself in harm’s way to keep Barca from injury. Your act though foolish, holds honor. Bearing the mark of the brotherhood is privilege many have died for. Wear it well and do not dishonor your brothers.”

“Yes Doctore.” The boy still unsure holds out his arm.

“Repeat these words and hold to heart their meaning.”

Pietros nods. “Yes, Doctore.”

“I vow to uphold the sanctity of the brotherhood with every drop of sweat and blood given in servitude of this house and the command of my master, Batiatus.”

Peitros repeats the words looking at Doctore and over his shoulder into Barca’s dark eyes. The glowing iron is pressed into his flesh. Pietros closes his eyes as tears well up at the pain. The coppery taste of blood drips onto his tongue as he bites the inside of his cheek, determined not to cry out. 

He opens his eyes as the iron is lifted from his skin. In its place the mark of the house of Batiatus, burned into his flesh. His skin is inflamed and the nerves tingle with each movement of his hand. The medicus wraps a clean dry bandage around the fresh wound as he had done for the other men. Doctore smiles at the boy. “Welcome.”

Pietros’ chest swells with pride as he gets to his feet. Barca extends his arm for Pietros to clasp. The boy smiles at the gesture. He flinches at the pressure on the wound but stands proudly with the gladiator. Rhaskos stands upon one of the tables nude celebrating with the wine gifted by Dominus. Crixus breaks away from the Gauls to join Barca.

“How does it feel, little brother?” He clasps arms with Crixus flinching again at the pain. 

“Worry not, brand will become flesh in few days time. The blood of the brotherhood will course through you with each breath.”

Pietros smiles until he sees Neolis dressed in travel clothes. The man is being escorted by the guards to the gate. Excusing himself, the boy runs to the gate. “Neolis, a moment!”

The man nods to the guards stepping away from the gate to greet his friend.”

“I assume deal was struck.”

“Yes. I stand before you, a free man. I have only a moment before I must take my leave.”

“You shall be missed. You have shown me nothing but kindness, since I set foot here.”

He clasps his hand on the boy’s shoulder with a smile. “Neolis.”  
Pietros’ eyes water as he blinks back tears. 

“Do not shed tear for me. I am but free. I pray your freedom is not long time coming. One so bright should not be mired in shit beneath roof of this house.”

Neolis steals a chast kiss from Pietros. 

“You will survive absent my presence. You have the protection of your gladiator and now stand as a member of the brotherhood! Be well my young friend. I would give you a token to remember me by.”

Neolis removes the cuff from his arm and affixes it to the arm of the boy.   
“Suits you.--Now I take my leave. Seek me out if you ever see yourself from this cage.”

Winking, he takes his leave. The guards open and close the gate with a thud. Neolis smiles as he walks down the path from the villa not looking back. Pietros is pushed away from the gate by the guard. Turning around, he finds the moonlit yard all but empty, save Oenomaus.

“Pietros, a moment.”

“Yes Doctore?”

“You acted with honor this night. I am proud of you. Continue in this manner, and earn the respect of Dominus and myself.”

“I will make you proud Doctore.”

“Good. With your elevated status among the baiulus. You will aid me in the day to day training of the gladiators. You will report directly to me. With your new rank I expect you to learn your duties quickly and be able to train the others.”

“Yes Doctore.”

“There is something else. Dominus would have you given reward for your efforts. What would you have?”

“There stands but two things my heart desires and they stand beyond your grasp.” 

“Share your thoughts.”

“Love and Freedom.”

Doctore smiles and nods.

“It is what every man desires. For a slave, both stand a rare find. ”

“I have been fortunate to have found love.” Pietros smiles at the sentimental man. 

“I had a wife once. She served this house until her passing. I long to hold her in my arms again when she greets me in the afterlife. There we will be free together.-- If you are fortunate enough to find love in this life, hold it close to heart. Love can free a man’s heart even if he remains caged.”

Oenomaus pats him on the shoulder leaving the boy smiling. Taking his leave, Pietros all but runs to the paddocks. Racing to Barca’s cell, he stops at the doorway. The gladiator sits on the bench holding one of his birds gently in his large hands. 

“Barca.”

Pietros, calls him as she leans inside the cell. The gladiator’s eyes meet his for a brief moment before returning to the bird. 

“Where did the trinket come from?” Pietros touches the bracelet on his arm. 

“Neolis gave it to me before he left.”

“Left? Where does he go?”

“Wherever he wishes. He purchased his freedom this night .”

“He purchased freedom?”

“Yes, from Dominus.”

“Is that why I witnessed your lips upon his.”

Pietros shakes his head. “Neolis kissed me as goodbye between friends.”

“Do you not return his affections?”

“You misread intentions. There were no shared feelings besides friendship. I rather think he favored you.”

“What would you bring that thought to mind?”

“He spoke to me of coin he had saved to purchase freedom. The man claimed he earned coin offering comfort to you and others.”

“The man never sought coin from me.”

Pietros smiles.

“It seems you are the only one who stands in such regard.”

Barca looks skeptically at the boy as he realizes that Pietros speaks the truth. His jaw flexes as he returns his gaze to the bird. He lowers his voice as he confirms the claim. 

“You say he purchased freedom? How did he manage such a thing?”

“The Syrian negotiated price on his behalf.”

“How much did he pay?”

“Twenty denari.”

“Twenty denari! A hefty price for a baiulus. I was purchased for fifteen denari many years past.”

Pietros enters the cell and sits beside his lover on the bench. “Barca, have you ever thought of purchasing your freedom?”

“No. I did not know a thing was possible.” Barca puts down the bird in favor of crossing his arms. 

“What price would Dominus require for your freedom?”

“I fear that greedy fuck would take nothing less than 300 denari.”

“300 denari! That is quite a sum. How long would it take you to acquire such coin?”

“I would say no less than eight years, maybe sooner if I cling to purse. 320 denari is quite a savings.”

“320 denari? What purpose for the additional twenty denari?”

“I would purchase freedom for you as well.”

Pietros turns to Barca surprised by the man’s response. 

“Truely, you would have me at your side when you leave this place?”

“I cannot in good conscience leave my little bird locked in this cage of shit! You are far too delicate. Unless you do not wish it.”

“I would have it so, but I have no way to repay your kindness. We have not been known to one another for any length of time. Why would you remain longer in this place for me?”

Barca smiles and leans in to kiss Pietros. Gently he lifts the boy into his lap caressing his back. He notices tears welling up in Pietros’ eyes. 

“This is why. You are too kind for this place.--I do not deserve you.”

Barca’s dark eyes look Pietros up and down before pulling the boy to him. His hands caress the boy’s waist sliding down Pietros’s firm thighs. The boy braces himself against Barca’s strong shoulders. Pietros smiles, the possessiveness in his lover’s heated fingers pressing into his thighs. 

“What do you mean?”

“You ask many questions!” Barca growls. 

The boy averts his eyes, casting them down as if he is being scolded. Barca looks Pietros in his soft brown eyes. He cannot stay angry at the boy. The agitation lifts as his wide-eyed lover stares down at him. The gladiator flexes his jaw and sighs knowing the boy meant no harm. Lifting Pietros’s chin so their eyes meet.

“I have done many things that I am not proud of.” He looks away holding back his emotions. 

“Allow me to do this for you. Maybe the gods will show me some fucking favor.”

Pietros’s bright smile draws his gaze. The boy places his hands on Barca’s cheeks, caressing them with his thumbs. Leaning down he places the sweetest kiss on the gladiator’s lips. Barca growls as he pulls Pietros body against his. The boy’s heated skin responds to his lover’s possessive touch. 

Moaning into Barca’s neck, Pietros attempts to muffle the sounds escaping him as his heart races. The gladiator’s warm breath prickles the skin on Pietros’s neck as he alternates sucking and nibbling down to the boy’s collarbone. Barca’s skilled hands make quick work of the tattered cloth wrapped around the boy’s waist. Staring hungrily at Pietros with his dark eyes, Barca’s hands freely roam over the boy’s taught body. Sliding his hands over Barca’s subligaria, the boy smiles coyly as he unties the fabric. 

“You know not what you do,” he growls as the boy’s heated touch excites him. Pietros slides his fingers under the fabric in search of his prize. Casting the fabric to the floor, Pietros grips his lover’s cock. 

“I am fully aware of my doings.”

Smiling, the boy kisses Barca forcefully. The gladiator grins as he watches Pietros lips part around his cock. The warmth of the boy’s mouth surrounds him sending waves of pleasure coursing through him. Hollowing his cheeks, Pietros increases his speed allowing Barca to thrust into his mouth. The gladiator grips handfuls of the boy’s tight curls moving his head to optimize his pleasure. Gritting his teeth in attempt to regain sense, Barca pulls the boy off his full cock. Pulling Pietros up, he kisses him, thrusting his tongue deep into the boy’s mouth. Barca picks up the gasping boy, pressing him against the wall. 

Grinding their heated flesh together, Barca teases the boy nipping at the sensitive skin of his neck. Pietros throws his head back surrendering the more experienced man’s will. Slowly Barca returns the boy to the floor with a devilish smile. He signals for the boy to look under the bench. Pietros pulls out a small clay vial, placing it in Barca’s awaiting hand. He watches curiously as Barca removes the plug and pours the contents into his hand.

Grinning, Barca strokes his waiting cock, as he turns the boy around. He drips the remainder of the oil between the swells of Pietros’s ass, massaging the lubricant into the tight entrance. Pietros bites his lips in attempt to quiet his eager moans. Unable to wait any longer, Barca grips the boy’s hips pressing his cock at the boys entrance. Leaning over he nibbles the squirming boy’s ear as he enters him. Pietros digs his fingers into Barca’s thigh as his chest heaves. 

Pulling the boy up for a kiss, Barca thrusts firmly inside Pietros. Caressing the length of the boy’s body, Barca thrusts his hips. Bracing himself against the bench, Pietros relaxes allowing the wave of pleasure to flow over him. Barca’s callused hands grasp him tightly as the gladiator growls in his ear. His rough hands caress the boy’s so gently. Feeling protected, but yet so free in the gladiator’s arms.

Their furied love-making slows as they find their pace. Pietros reaches for Barca’s hand gripping his hips and pulls it against his chest. Interlocking their fingers he stands causing his lover to slip from him. Pietros’s chest is heaving as he turns to the gladiator. Looking into Barca’s dark, lidded eyes he leans in for a kiss. Pietros knows his lover is a man of few words, but the passion in the man’s eyes stirs something deep within him. Lifting him off the ground, Barca wraps his arms around his smaller lover. Pietros wraps his legs around Barca’s waist ignoring the dull pain in his side from the fall. 

The boy gasps as the cocky gladiator slides inside him. Wrapping his arms around Barca’s neck, Pietros embraces the man. The gladiator thrusts vigorously with his lover holding on as their climax builds. Sweating and grunting in satisfaction the lovers collapse onto the cot. As they catch their breath, Pietros lazily kisses Barca. His hands slowly caress the boy’s sides tickling his sensitive skin. Content with their love-making, the two men drift off to sleep wrapped in the warmth of each other. 

Awakening with a stretch, Pietros recognises the dull throbbing of his lower back as reminder of their love-making. Rubbing his eyes, he blinks to focus in the dim light of the paddock. Barca is nowhere to be found nor the cages of birds. Pietros’ stomach drops as he quickly dresses and races out of the cell. Hurrying out into the dining hall, the sun has not yet breached the horizon. The soft pink sky casts the towering gladiator in shadow as Barca stands on the open cliff of the ludus.

Upon seeing his lover, Pietros smiles, running to close the gap between them. He is stopped suddenly by a strong arm giving him pause. The boy turns to find Crixus stepping out from in front of the column. Pietros pauses and steps toward the Gual. 

“Crixus, apologies. I did not see you.”

“I know, that is why I stopped you.”

“I awoke with Barca gone from our bed and came in search of him. I know not what what he does.”

“Do not disturb the man.--Each year on this day he remembers Auctus’ death. He comes to cliff’s edge and releases his birds. I saw him do this last year and vowed to share in his gesture. Pietros looks surprised as he looks between the two gladiators.

“He spoke of Auctus’ death by your hands.” Crixus’ jaw flexes as he casts his gaze upon the ground.

“He also speaks of you as a brother and how he holds you in high regard.”

“And I him.” They both stand staring at the gladiator. Barca stands in silence with his eyes closed with his thoughts. 

“I know not if you are aware of the loss he suffers. We all bear scars of those we loved let slip through our fingers. He has confessed to me on occasion his many losses. His mother beheaded by Roman soldiers, his childhood friend and lover sacrificed his life to save Barca’s, his father and countless kin fell to his own sword in the arena for Roman spectacle, and Auctus former lover fell to my sword, unable to even utter final words of comfort. 

I fear the man will not survive another heartbreak. Barca is a skilled gladiator. In the arena, he is a fearsome opponent. He is the only one, save myself who stands undefeated and as such is the only man who can push me to be better. Since Auctus fell, Barca has been diminished. Not easily seen by the other men, but for those with trained eye like myself and Doctore, his heart was not in it. 

After you arrived at this house, I found his fire returned. Gratitude for igniting flame within his breast. I would have formidable brother to aid in whipping these pathetic shits into gladiators. He hides his pain in jest with the recruits but the man’s heart bears deep scars. I would see it lifted once more.”

“I share your thoughts.”

“I would see him mended with thoughts of protecting someone he holds to heart.”

Pietros looks at his lover then something clicks. He turns to Crixus grins at the boy. He nudges the boy forward towards the meditative gladiator. Pietros slowly approaches Barca being sure the gladiator hears him. Touching his back, Pietros waits patiently until Barca acknowledges his presence. Turning to the boy, he pulls Pietros close and nuzzles their foreheads together. 

“I awoke to find our bed cold.”

“Worry not, my little bird, I had planned to return before you woke.”

“You intend to release your pets?”

“Yes.”

“Would you allow me to aid you?”

Barca smiles at the boy’s kind gesture. The two men open the cages allowing the pigeons to fly away into the early morning sky. The small injured bird flaps his good wing trying to fly with the others. Pietros picks up the hopping bird cradling it in his hand.Watching the birds disappear, Pietros takes Barca’s hand in his. Barca pulls Pietros in for a deep kiss. The two men smile as the rays of the sun illuminate them. 

“Should I wait for invitation to the wedding?” Crixus chides walking towards his friend. 

“Fuck off you shit!”

Barca laughs as he clasps Crixus’ forearm. The Gual reaches for the makeshift bird cages. “Allow me to return these to your cell. I would give you both a moment to yourselves.”

“Gratitude brother.”

Crixus carries the cages into the paddock. He looks up and nods to Naevia setting a tray of fruit on the balcony. She smiles politely and returns the slight nod. Pietros encourages Barca’s embrace as they continue to watch the sunrise. Pietros whispers so only his lover can hear.

“One day we will also have our freedom and fly from this house.”

The little bird coos contently as Barca lifts the boy’s chin to claim his lips. The two men enjoy the stillness of the morning for a few moments longer before the day’s training begins.


End file.
